Post by Jack Hammond on May 31, 2009 7:21:04 GMT -6
Once again, the familiar face of Jack Hammond appears in the viewfinder of his patented ‘Hamster-Dash Cam’ as he drives through the streets of Madsion in his Mustang, buildings flitting past the side windows, his eyes set on the road ahead as he begins to talk.
“So it seems that as my match at Reborn with Joe Everyman for my X-Division Title gets closer with each passing moment, the man I’m facing seems to be singing a slightly different tune. Not in such a way that he should try out for American Idol, no matter how good he’d look up there next to Ryan Seacrest, but in a more metaphorical sense with his sudden backpedalling away from the whole 'underdog' subject he seemed to be ramming down our ears and his newfound respect for me somehow locating my backbone which had been apparently oddly missing for all these years.”
Jack smirks to himself, casually reaching for the gearstick to shift down as he pulls away, the buildings flitting past the windows a little quicker, a comforting roar of exhaust note coming from behind him as he carries on.
“Far be it from me to criticize a man about being a little indecisive when I regularly appear to be not all that concerned hours before a match that my face could end up pasted into the canvas hard enough to make a hole so big, even Jackhammer could find it a bit daunting to cross. In my defense, I could say I’m a pretty easygoing kind of guy. Joe, he likes to think he’s at peace, but trust me, I can make Buddha look like Dane Cook on caffene when I like to zen out...and Dane Cook’s crazy. Not the least bit funny, but still. Crazy.”
He clears his throat to get Dane Cook out of his head the same way he’d like to get rid of cancer and poverty before he nods to himself, glancing for the first time at the camera, his Mustang slowing to a halt as Hammond pulls up at some lights.
“Okay, perhaps I’m not all that chilled, seeing as not only, as I’ve previously mentioned, could my face get smeared across the ring tonight, but I’m going to be putting the X-Division Title on the line against a man who’s beaten three other much-deserved competitors in the Elite-8 Tournament. A man who is gunning for me and the gold around my waist, and is determined to not be the man who leaves tonight as a loser and believes that this belt is his ticket to becoming the nCw World Champion.”
Jack shrugs a little too casually as he pulls away from the lights calmly and slowly.
“Maybe he’s right. Set him down that path for glory and his name in bright lights! Cars, women and more fame and wealth than he’ll know what to deal with! Just imagine it; Joe Everyman...nCw World Heavyweight Champion. Only there’s one little thing that could stand in your way there Joe.”
Jack looks dead on at the camera with that confident grin of his and a twinkle in his eye.
“Me. Y’see a problem I tended to be picked upon when I was hunting for my first belt was that I was always focused on the prize, but never the means to get there or, more importantly, the guy who owned the damn thing in the first place. I’d see the prize, but not the man and I’d get beyond myself, get overconfident.”
He pauses, his eyes drifting upwards, looking up at the clear afternoon air and the buildings and trees that lined the road he was currently stuck on, lost in his thoughts for a few seconds before looking back at the camera.
“Joe, you ask why I can be humble or be satisfied with just playing an underdog role, it’s because I know I can fail if I slip up like I used to. I can only focus on the here-and-now. I try to reach too far and I trip over my own feet and nobody’s there to catch me when I fall down. So you’ve got to ask if you’re ready to take that fall if you lose tonight; Can you handle the disappointment of having to wait for your shot at the World Title?”
Jack grins and shakes his head.
“So these ‘big things’ you’ve got planned Joe, I’m afraid that you haven’t considered who the hell I am and how I got to where I am in the first place. I’m the X-Division Champion, and I didn’t get this title out of a box of Cracker Jacks...”
He makes a slight pause, his eyes drifting upwards once more searching his thoughts.
“...though oddly it is how I got my nCw contract in the first place...a box of crackers, Leonard Fox and a silly bet involving a pair of penguins and a lawnmower.”
Hammond shakes his head, shaking that little thought loose before his expression hardens as he brings his Mustang to a stop, once more caught up by some lights.
“So Joe, you may think that this little yellow-brick road you’re on is going to lead you right to Oz and you’re going to get everything you want, need or deserve. But you keep dreaming or believing this little fariytale, reality is going to bite you in the arse, or deliver a double running knee strike to the chest whilst you’ve got stars in your eyes. Call me a Wicked Witch if you like, but I believe it’s a lesson that I need to share with you the hard way if you think you’re going to stomp all over me unopposed. So wake up Dorothy and brace yourself.”
Jack’s cheeky little grin starts to spread across his face as he nods confidently at the camera before chuckling. There’s the sound of his engine revving as he gently prods at the throttle beneath his foot, the whole car bucking gently beneath him as he does so.
“Okay, I’ll get off the whole ‘Wizard of Oz’ thing before I beat the metaphor to death. Besides, I respect you too much to let your ego get the better of you Joe. And no matter who comes out on top tonight, a handshake would not be all that unwelcome. And as for having ‘something bigger and better planned’, I’ve got these ideas of having a bunch of doves fly out from under the ring if I get to celebrate, and a few cars doing donuts on the outside whilst a jet flies over the crowd. I’ve still got a few phone calls to make.”
Jack clears his throat once more but smiles, still poking the loud pedal, the revs growing in intensity and noise.
“So good luck Joe. I’ll see you in the ring.”
He reaches for the gearstick and cranks up the gas, shifting into first, the Mustang rocketing away and disappearing in a cloud of tyre smoke and a bellow of V8 exhaust noise, Hammond whooping all the while as the scene fades out to black.
“So it seems that as my match at Reborn with Joe Everyman for my X-Division Title gets closer with each passing moment, the man I’m facing seems to be singing a slightly different tune. Not in such a way that he should try out for American Idol, no matter how good he’d look up there next to Ryan Seacrest, but in a more metaphorical sense with his sudden backpedalling away from the whole 'underdog' subject he seemed to be ramming down our ears and his newfound respect for me somehow locating my backbone which had been apparently oddly missing for all these years.”
Jack smirks to himself, casually reaching for the gearstick to shift down as he pulls away, the buildings flitting past the windows a little quicker, a comforting roar of exhaust note coming from behind him as he carries on.
“Far be it from me to criticize a man about being a little indecisive when I regularly appear to be not all that concerned hours before a match that my face could end up pasted into the canvas hard enough to make a hole so big, even Jackhammer could find it a bit daunting to cross. In my defense, I could say I’m a pretty easygoing kind of guy. Joe, he likes to think he’s at peace, but trust me, I can make Buddha look like Dane Cook on caffene when I like to zen out...and Dane Cook’s crazy. Not the least bit funny, but still. Crazy.”
He clears his throat to get Dane Cook out of his head the same way he’d like to get rid of cancer and poverty before he nods to himself, glancing for the first time at the camera, his Mustang slowing to a halt as Hammond pulls up at some lights.
“Okay, perhaps I’m not all that chilled, seeing as not only, as I’ve previously mentioned, could my face get smeared across the ring tonight, but I’m going to be putting the X-Division Title on the line against a man who’s beaten three other much-deserved competitors in the Elite-8 Tournament. A man who is gunning for me and the gold around my waist, and is determined to not be the man who leaves tonight as a loser and believes that this belt is his ticket to becoming the nCw World Champion.”
Jack shrugs a little too casually as he pulls away from the lights calmly and slowly.
“Maybe he’s right. Set him down that path for glory and his name in bright lights! Cars, women and more fame and wealth than he’ll know what to deal with! Just imagine it; Joe Everyman...nCw World Heavyweight Champion. Only there’s one little thing that could stand in your way there Joe.”
Jack looks dead on at the camera with that confident grin of his and a twinkle in his eye.
“Me. Y’see a problem I tended to be picked upon when I was hunting for my first belt was that I was always focused on the prize, but never the means to get there or, more importantly, the guy who owned the damn thing in the first place. I’d see the prize, but not the man and I’d get beyond myself, get overconfident.”
He pauses, his eyes drifting upwards, looking up at the clear afternoon air and the buildings and trees that lined the road he was currently stuck on, lost in his thoughts for a few seconds before looking back at the camera.
“Joe, you ask why I can be humble or be satisfied with just playing an underdog role, it’s because I know I can fail if I slip up like I used to. I can only focus on the here-and-now. I try to reach too far and I trip over my own feet and nobody’s there to catch me when I fall down. So you’ve got to ask if you’re ready to take that fall if you lose tonight; Can you handle the disappointment of having to wait for your shot at the World Title?”
Jack grins and shakes his head.
“So these ‘big things’ you’ve got planned Joe, I’m afraid that you haven’t considered who the hell I am and how I got to where I am in the first place. I’m the X-Division Champion, and I didn’t get this title out of a box of Cracker Jacks...”
He makes a slight pause, his eyes drifting upwards once more searching his thoughts.
“...though oddly it is how I got my nCw contract in the first place...a box of crackers, Leonard Fox and a silly bet involving a pair of penguins and a lawnmower.”
Hammond shakes his head, shaking that little thought loose before his expression hardens as he brings his Mustang to a stop, once more caught up by some lights.
“So Joe, you may think that this little yellow-brick road you’re on is going to lead you right to Oz and you’re going to get everything you want, need or deserve. But you keep dreaming or believing this little fariytale, reality is going to bite you in the arse, or deliver a double running knee strike to the chest whilst you’ve got stars in your eyes. Call me a Wicked Witch if you like, but I believe it’s a lesson that I need to share with you the hard way if you think you’re going to stomp all over me unopposed. So wake up Dorothy and brace yourself.”
Jack’s cheeky little grin starts to spread across his face as he nods confidently at the camera before chuckling. There’s the sound of his engine revving as he gently prods at the throttle beneath his foot, the whole car bucking gently beneath him as he does so.
“Okay, I’ll get off the whole ‘Wizard of Oz’ thing before I beat the metaphor to death. Besides, I respect you too much to let your ego get the better of you Joe. And no matter who comes out on top tonight, a handshake would not be all that unwelcome. And as for having ‘something bigger and better planned’, I’ve got these ideas of having a bunch of doves fly out from under the ring if I get to celebrate, and a few cars doing donuts on the outside whilst a jet flies over the crowd. I’ve still got a few phone calls to make.”
Jack clears his throat once more but smiles, still poking the loud pedal, the revs growing in intensity and noise.
“So good luck Joe. I’ll see you in the ring.”
He reaches for the gearstick and cranks up the gas, shifting into first, the Mustang rocketing away and disappearing in a cloud of tyre smoke and a bellow of V8 exhaust noise, Hammond whooping all the while as the scene fades out to black.